


storm rising

by rievu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dry Humping, M/M, Omnics, Robot Sex, Sex, Teasing, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18544369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rievu/pseuds/rievu
Summary: Genji pulls the tie taut, and Maximilien’s voice chokes out into another sharp moan that sends vibrations through Genji’s skin. Their proximity is close for Genji to not feel it. “Ah, a touchy one, are you,” Maximilien murmurs. His vocal register drops lower and lower, and the modulated tones of his voice vibrate once more to Genji’s metal skin. “So unnecessary,” he chides. “I do not need to breathe, and this is a new Giorgio Armani silk tie.”“Do I look like I care?” Genji finally says. If Maximilien wants to play, then he’ll play the same damn game.// if genji and maximilien dealt with negotiations in a decidedly different manner during the "storm rising" event





	storm rising

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [fayren](https://twitter.com/fayren/status/1118372974992744456) and [eldritchsky's](https://twitter.com/EldritchSky/status/1118605404764684291) art + the new overwatch "storm rising" event.

Genji sprints ahead.

The mechanical muscles bunch in his calves as he prepares to launch himself off the side of the ledge after Maximilien. In his peripheral vision, he can see the bright blue streaks that Lena leaves behind in her perpetual dance of time as well as the luminous gold that Angela trails behind. He does not see Winston, but he can certainly hear him as Winston starts leaping around the battlefield, crushing metal and flesh underneath his fists and cannon.

They’ll be fine. So, he unlocks his legs and allows the sheer force from his compressed muscles to vault him forwards. His body unclicks different pistons to enable him to move at his full speed, and he can feel the sensation of his spirit dragon brushing across the edges of his burnished metal carapace. It’s just enough to give him the edge that he needs, and he pursues Maximilien on a wild chase.

Maximilien is not without his own tricks. The omnic somehow manages to keep his clothes impeccable as he navigates the burning wreckage of Havana that they’ve made. However, Genji is faster and keeps up with Maximilien. Finally, he corners Maximilien into an abandoned building and slams him against the wall. He reaches out to yank Maximilien’s red tie so that it chokes Maximilien’s metal neck, and he points the sharp edge of his sword at the apex of the metal tendons that coil around Maximilien’s neck.

He can feel the warmth radiating from Maximilien as well as the way Maximilien’s metal body tenses underneath Genji’s weight. Maximilien lets out a slow, soft sigh, but the way that Genji’s hold on his tie constricts his neck makes it sound almost like a moan. There’s a series of scratches littering Maximilien’s formerly polished face, but the way that Maximilien looks down at him with his glowing red eyes make it seem as though Maximilien was completely untouched.

Genji narrows his eyes and flicks on his optic lights so that they glare green into Maximilien’s red. It doesn’t faze the omnic at all, and he tilts his neck, coming dangerously close to the edge of Genji’s blade. “Do you mind?” Maximilien murmurs, his voice too throaty.

Genji pulls the tie taut, and Maximilien’s voice chokes out into another sharp moan that sends vibrations through Genji’s skin. Their proximity is close for Genji to _not_ feel it. “Ah, a touchy one, are you,” Maximilien murmurs. His vocal register drops lower and lower, and the modulated tones of his voice vibrate once more to Genji’s metal skin. “So unnecessary,” he chides. “I do not need to breathe, and this is a new Giorgio Armani silk tie.”

“Do I look like I care?” Genji finally says. If Maximilien wants to play, then he’ll play the same damn game. Genji purposefully digs his fingers into the tie, and he twists his wrist so that Maximilien can see the way Genji’s shurikens dip out of his wrist to nick the fabric.

“No respect for good fashion nowadays,” Maximilien tuts. Then, he slots his leg behind the small of Genji’s back and uses the leverage to tug Genji even closer. The motion sends Genji’s blade skittering across Maximilien’s neck, and the small scratch slowly starts to leak a dark oil. The shuriken slips off of Genji’s wrist and clatters to the ground, and Maximilien laughs, “So, what do you plan to do with me, little dragon? Surely we can make some kind of deal.”

“You are in no position to negotiate,” Genji snaps.

Maximilien’s face might be metal, but his jaw unhinges just enough to let a sly smirk creep across his face. The scarlet lighting of his ocular sensors dims, and he pulls Genji even closer. “On the contrary,” he murmurs. “I believe I am in the perfect position to make a deal.”

Genji stiffens as he feels Maximilien’s fingers dancing up the side of Genji’s carapace. His touch sensors are relatively limited when he’s in combat mode, but he can’t deny that Maximilien is following some unknown path along his body. He amps up his ocular lighting so that the green light blazes into Maximilien’s sensors, almost to the point of blindness, but Maximilien doesn’t stop at all. Instead, he gently skates his fingers across the set of scratches, dents, and wounds Genji has sustained over the course of this chase.

Blood and oil mingle over the surface of Genji’s armor, and it only makes it easier for Maximilien to trace his touch all over Genji. He seems to be… Genji can’t ascertain it for sure, but it feels like Maximilien is writing something along his skin. But then, all thoughts escape Genji when Maximilien presses deep against a section of damaged armor on Genji’s shoulder. The metal is gaping wide there, and there are frayed wires that connect to Genji’s sensory system overlaid in his cyborg body. The damage isn’t extensive there, but it’s there and it’s exposed and Maximilien toys with the wires with a gentle touch. Genji lets out a soft, strangled moan, and Maximilien smiles even wider.

“Again,” he chuckles. “I believe I am in the perfect position to make a deal. Care to negotiate?”

Genji grits his teeth and chokes back any sound he might make. He locks down his vocal generator and shuts his eyes when Maximilien plays with the wires again. Maximilien then moves his leg to slot directly between Genji’s legs. “You’re not saying anything,” Maximilien carelessly says as he continues to move in ways that make Genji feel like he’s going mad.

He studies Genji’s face with a careful look before he reaches up to tap Genji’s throat. “Locking down your voice will not change anything, little dragon,” he points out. “If anything, it will prolong this business even more. Would you rather have us make this deal in private or make this deal in front of your associates?” Maximilien tilts his head and comments, “I have done both before. I do not mind. It is up to you to choose.”

Genji exhales slowly, and Maximilien pauses in his ministrations. His fingers are so maddeningly close to Genji’s nerves, but Maximilien only cocks his head when Genji strains against Maximilien’s touch. Reluctantly, Genji unlocks his voice and asks shakily, “What do you have to offer?”

“So much,” Maximilien murmurs. “I am a man of many wealths, many riches, many connections with my associates. I could likely give you anything you wanted in the world, little dragon.”

“Are all of your relations with your associates like this?” Genji grits out.

Maximilien laughs before he leans his head against Genji’s forehead. Maximilien feels hot, and the weight of him is far more substantial than Genji expects. “A few,” Maximilien admits. The lights in his eyes flicker once before he says, “Only the pretty ones, and I will entirely admit that I am quite picky in terms of personal tastes.”

“So, I suppose you think I should be honored,” Genji bites back. Two can play his game, and he twists the tie in his hand even tighter. With his other hand, he sheathes his sword and starts thumbing over the scratch on Maximilien’s neck. Then, he swipes the oil across Maximilien’s mouth out of sheer impulse.

“You may think whatever you wish to think,” Maximilien returns. “But I do not believe in missing opportunities. This is simply another of those circumstances. Now, let us return to diplomacy.”

There’s not much to Genji’s body other than smooth, aerodynamic lines and burnished metal. Angela forged this body for battle and trapped his soul and the remnants of his flesh into this new case as Overwatch dictated. Like a true doctor, she rebuilt his body along human standards but even better. However, the marks of battle have left their own signatures across Genji’s body, and Maximilien finds them all with unerring accuracy. Maximilien doesn’t kiss, doesn’t bite, but Genji finds that he doesn’t miss it at all when Maximilien plays his fingers across the various scars and marks across the metal.

Genji moans and grinds against Maximilien’s leg between his own when Maximilien finds more areas of exposed wiring and the few parts of human skin that Genji has left. “Interesting,” Maximilien murmurs. “I have not met people like you, both omnic and human. You are fascinating, little dragon.”

“Glad to be of service,” Genji says between his teeth. He refuses to be placed in a passive role, so he uses Maximilien’s shoulders to prop himself up. Then, he begins his own experimentation. He takes a vicious satisfaction in destroying Maximilien’s suit. Likely expensive, likely from a designer, but Maximilien doesn’t seem to mind when Genji scores long lines against the back of Maximilien’s suit jacket.

Then, Maximilien has the nerve to try and pin Genji down. He neatly twists and slams Genji into the wall. Genji instinctively withdraws additional shuriken from his repository, but Maximilien deftly snatches it before Genji even has the time to grab it. In return, Maximilien digs his fingers deep into Genji’s sensitive spots and murmurs, “Heel, little dragon.”

Maximilien considers Genji for only a moment before he finally palms Genji in all the places that Genji would like. Genji moans, now shameless, and he hurtles onwards in this space of ecstasy that Maximilien is building for him. Half of him is deeply ashamed and deeply embarrassed, but the darkness of the building that they’re in hides them. Genji can still hear the sounds of gunfire outside, but Maximilien silences them when he wrings out another moan from Genji.

Genji unlatches the lower half of his facial plates and pulls Maximilien to start nipping at him. Omnic wiring may be good and all, but Genji knows that sometimes, humans have more dexterity than an omnic could ever hope to achieve. He tongues the wound across Maximilien’s neck and finds that the oil tastes sharp and bitter on his tongue. Not unlike the iron tang of blood but something distinctly different. Not like regular motor oil either; Genji unfortunately knows the taste of that after being crushed into a car’s hood during one mission gone wrong.

Maximilien groans, and the vibration of the sound through Maximilien’s body send another thrill down Genji. Genji now sets about the work of equal reciprocity: pulling as many sounds from Maximilien as he had done to him. He tears through Maximilien’s expensive suit, and the sound of tearing fabric fills the space between them.

“Again,” Maximilien grits out. “These were all new.”

“You can always buy new ones for me to tear,” Genji points out.

Maximilien presses a biting kiss to Genji’s neck right where the synthetic skin stretches down to the hard metal. The sensation feels far more intense than Genji expects, and Genji moans against the metal of Maximilien’s skin. “Do you plan to continue our business relations?” Maximilien inquires.

Genji can feel Maximilien smile against his synthetic skin, and he frowns. To retaliate, he digs his fingers even deeper into the divots of his hips and whispers, “Do you really think you’re going to get away from Overwatch that easily?”

Maximilien preens under Genji’s touch and moves to allow him more access. He slowly inches them towards the ground before he proceeds to straddle Genji’s lap. “From Overwatch, yes,” Maximilien snorts. He traces a long line down Genji’s chest before he sighs, “But from you? I’m afraid it won’t be as easy.”

Genji snorts as well and sucks in another well-needed breath of air. Maximilien has a way of distributing his touch across Genji’s artificial synapses in just a way that drives him closer and closer to the edge of pleasure and pain. The balance is fine and _exquisite._ Maximilien also observes him with a kind of intensity that Genji usually associates with devoted scholars and scientists. Well, Genji supposes that in a way, this is a study of Maximilien’s own design. All the variables are laid out in front of Maximilien to toy with, and the omnic was never known to be anything like ethical.

Genji looks up at Maximilien and wonders if he could just… He reaches up to grasp Maximilien’s hand. Maximilien stills under the touch, and Genji carefully interlaces their fingers. He squeezes Maximilien’s hand only once before he starts thrusting up against Maximilien. It takes Maximilien by surprise, but Maximilien does not let go. Instead, he adjusts around it and starts moving against Genji as well.

With his other hand, Maximilien presses a hand to Genji’s throat and steadily adds more pressure. “Wh—” Genji struggles to say, but Maximilien makes a soft shushing sound. His movements slow until he only rolls his hips into Genji’s lap once every minute.

“There are troops outside,” Maximilien says in the barest of whispers. “As much as I enjoy hearing you sing, little dragon, I am selfish.” Maximilien leans in so that red is the only color that Genji can properly see. “And your delicious sounds are simply another thing that I do not wish to share,” he finishes. Again, Genji wonders at how emotion manages to flicker across the omnic’s face with such ease, but there is no other way that the look on Maximilien’s face is anything but devious.

With one hand on Genji’s throat and the other clasped in Genji’s hand, Maximilien moves only with his hips. However, it’s enough to drive Genji up the wall. He strains against Maximilien, trying to get the friction that he craves, but it’s not enough. It only gets worse when Maximilien starts nipping at the exposed dents and scratches across Genji’s carapace. The most sensitive spots have the wires flickering with a kind of current that races along Genji’s veins.

It seems like an eternity before Maximilien relents and lifts the hand off of Genji’s throat. Genji inhales sharply, but Maximilien does not waste time. Maximilien now drags Genji up with his free hand and positions him in a way that they scissor just right. Then, he reaches behind Genji to the spot where it all started: Genji’s damaged shoulder. Genji whines, high and desperate, as they move in perfect harmony.

He supposes he has to thank Angela. The good doctor tried to salvage as much as she possibly could from his original body, and the lower half of his body was all intact. There were a few sections of his intestines that were 3D-printed with his own stem cells, but other than that, it’s a distinctly human sensation that he feels when he finally comes against Maximilien’s weight.

Maximilien comes in an omnic fashion: in a wave of electricity. Sparks spasm across his skin and conduct over to Genji’s own metal like some sort of ghost. Genji doesn’t waste any time. He flips Maximilien over and braces him against the wall. There’s not much of Maximilien’s expensive suit left, but Genji uses two shuriken to pin him through the wall. He knows that the sharp edges must have cut through some of the corded muscle threading through the metal of Maximilien’s shoulders, but the bastard probably enjoyed that.

Genji unsheathes his sword in a smooth, deft motion that he’s gained over the course of years. He keeps the edge carefully against the same place that he had it before, and he uses his knee as added leverage against Maximilien. “So,” he says. His breath is ragged, but he does his best to keep his tone light and conversational. “Let’s talk about what I want.”

“We have already begun,” Maximilien says with an infuriating smirk.

Genji ignores it to add another shuriken to the row of metal pinning Maximilien to the wall. “You’re coming with me,” he says.

“I already have,” Maximilien laughs.

Genji tilts Maximilien’s chin up so that Maximilien’s gaze is on nothing else but Genji. “An introduction,” he slowly says. “You said you had connections.”

“Ah, I feel like I should be hurt,” Maximilien croons. “Thinking about someone else so quickly after our little _discussion?”_

Genji tightens his grip on Maximilien’s face, and Maximilien lets out a soft sigh of a moan. “I see, I see, not the time for jokes,” he murmurs. “Very well then. Take me back to your little headquarters, and we can discuss.” The red of his ocular sensors glows a touch brighter as Maximilien asks, “Shall we continue our negotiations?”

Genji regards Maximilien carefully. He’s not a fool; he hears the double nuance in Maximilien’s words just as well. He can almost hear his brother in his head, berating him for being “a fool who only thinks with his dick.” Granted, that was relatively true in his younger days, but there’s a part of Genji that still perks up with interest at the concept of it.

“Perhaps,” he finally says.

Another calculating smirk crawls across Maximilien’s face — Genji almost wants to kiss or slap it off, he’s not quite sure which — and Maximilien muses, “Interesting. Absolutely fascinating, little dragon. Then, let us negotiate for as long as your heart wishes. But for now, let us rejoin your compatriots. We wouldn’t want them to assume anything for the worst. That friend of yours, the zippy one, she might be particularly off-put if you are not found soon enough. Moreover, the sooner we leave, the sooner you and I can remedy this nightmare of an outfit.”

He plucks at the edge of his suit before he reaches up to slip off his lapel pin. Carefully, oh so carefully, Maximilien takes the long strip of fabric woven around the back of Genji’s head. Then, he pins it to the very end. It’s a small pin, and it wouldn’t be noticeable by any means. But the gleam of the gold means something more between the two of them, and Genji looks up at Maximilien. Half of Maximilien’s red lights flicker out in the facsimile of a wink, and Maximilien sighs as he reaches up to tug the shuriken out of his suit and his artificial tendons.

Genji reluctantly pulls away from Maximilien and runs his thumb over the pin. He sweeps the fabric over his shoulder and stretches out his limbs. The pistons along his armor unlock and release soft puffs of steam and heat that were pent-up in his body, and he works the kinks out of his aching limbs.

Maximilien extends his arm out for a simple handshake, and Genji takes it without another word. Their deal is done; no more words are necessary.

And Genji escorts Maximilien out of the building and into a world where everything burns.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmm this is my first time at the explicit content rodeo + i don't even know what i've written anymore


End file.
